Billy's Balkanization Blog

Omega Exodus: The Unfolding Game, Part 10

The U.S. embassy building is a fancy white building in a style Tom Clancy once called “Frank Lloyd Wright meets Ludwig the Mad”. It’s on a block all by itself, with streets all around. Across from its front door is a park which embassy staff visit sometimes. The police secured the immediate vicinity quite easily, but they couldn’t control the people who lived in the area. Some of them had begun standing in front of the fence, begging to be let in. Not wanting to show the American diplomatic corps a lot of dead bodies in front of their surveillance cameras, the cops merely formed a cordon around the embassy to filter out South Africans from Americans while checkpoints on the other side of the park and on all sides about a block further away filtered the crowds even more. Still, it being the U.S. embassy and home to all sorts of anti-ANC conspiracies the paranoid imaginations of Jacob Zuma’s administration conjured for years until most black people believed it, there were large crowds of blacks outside the perimeter. As it happened, the pregnant wife of a junior cultural affairs staffer had made her way through the cordons brandishing her diplomatic passport the whole time. It wasn’t that she wanted to be there, but she thought her apartment was increasingly unsafe and was due in two weeks or less. It wasn’t like a private hospital, however the embassy had a doctor and Marines had a medic, so if push came to shove, her daughter would be born on American soil. With the help of a four-man police escort, at a few minutes after 9 AM she got near the guard room on the corner and began to push her way through the desperate people who in turn tried to push their way past the unyielding cops- and that’s when tragedy got its wheels turning…

She’d finally made it through the 150-strong mob and reached out to a cop to get his attention. Unfortunately the guy had just turned to grab a man who’d managed to push past him, and when the woman tried to tap him on the shoulder but instead brushed his lower right arm, he thought somebody was trying to reach his gun. He let go of the guy he’d caught, whirled to his left and brought up his Z88, then fired. Until then, four Marines had had a tense yet uneventful night taking turns doing guard duty on the roof, facing the front gate. One of them had seen and recognized the woman and through the scope of his M-14, saw the passport she waved in the air. As such, he watched the crowd around her, ready to provide cover fire if anything happened. He saw the cop draw his weapon and moved his scope on the back of the guy’s head, but by then he was three quarters of a second too late, for his mind sort of registered the woman crumple. Just after the cop, the Marine pulled the trigger, trying to take him out before he killed the woman, but she dropped and so did the cop. The other policemen heard the nearly overlapping shots and after seeing their colleague on the ground, thought they were being fired on. They took cover and began to shoot at the Marines. Not the wisest idea on Earth, because these guys weren’t good shots to begin with, and were using Z88 pistols at ranges of at least 30 meters against elevated positions manned by Marines. The cops’ bullets hit some bulletproof windows below (actually they can take a hit from a RPG), pocked the wall just below and hit one of them in the left shoulder. The Marines were expert marksmen and began to get head shots. One of the cops cowering below the embassy’s raised ground level around the left corner got on the radio and told everybody on the net that they were being fired upon by American soldiers. At the checkpoint across the park, a captain panicked and sent half of his men to provide support, while he took cover behind a police car.

The blacks beyond him heard the rifle shots and began to shout “American imperialists are killing our cops!”, then pushed past the weakened police cordon and rushed towards the embassy, armed with placards, sticks, stones, machetes and even guns. By then the Marines had radioed below for backup and a whole squad came up. The shooting intensified and bullets were ricocheting into whites who had hit the ground on the street and began to run for the cover of the trees over the road. About ten cops were coming the other way, guns drawn, and they fired thinking the whites were attacking them. The mob of blacks coming up behind the cops took care of the rest and moved towards the embassy. Now in the open, they surged on the fence and began to climb it. Marine fire hit some of the enraged blacks who were climbing, and that only spurred on the crowd. About 10 or 15 of them managed to get to the top of the 4 meter-high fence which until then had been billed as impossible to climb, and lowered themselves to the ground. They were on sovereign American soil and presented a clear threat to people and a facility guarded by Marines who well remembered what happened to the U.S. embassy in Tehran back in 1979. No way was anybody going to spend over a year as hostages, not with these savages, so they put steel on target, head shots and center-mass mostly. The mob didn’t take the hint and now began trying to push the fence down. It took some pressure, but a section crashed amid much screeching and even more people began to enter embassy grounds. The Marines radioed there was a breach in the perimeter, they were under attack and all embassy personnel were to secure themselves behind locked doors immediately, then went to work, firing three round bursts and full auto. Within 60 seconds they did enough damage that the blacks stopped and began to run back, eventually spreading throughout the park.

The firing ceased and silence of a sort descended. There were over 50 dead and quite a few wounded who tried to crawl out of the embassy grounds, screaming in agony as they did so. The Marines kept watch on the broken fence while the cops below yelled that they weren’t going to fire anymore and would get help for the wounded. A tense truce was worked out, mostly by shouting, and it was made clear to everybody below to stay off American soil while embassy staff would give first aid to the wounded and helped carry the dead off premises. The Marines knew one thing- the embassy was in deep shit, but as one they thanked God this wasn’t Benghazi and Hillary Clinton wasn’t Secretary of State. Less than two minutes later, while embassy staff cleared the dead and wounded then put up the fence, the ambassador was burning the satellite phone with a frantic call to the State Department. Half a world away, in the midst of a dreamless sleep, the Secretary of State was woken up by his trilling phone. Within seconds of the call and with concern mixed with anger, the Sec State then called president Mattis and told him what he’d heard from the ambassador. In turn, Mattis called an emergency cabinet meeting and fired up the Joint Chiefs of Staff with demands for an extraction plan.

Within minutes, Secret Service convoys were heading for the cabinet members’ homes and the country’s top executives began another long day earlier than they wanted. By 3:45 AM they were in the Situation Room, the wisest among them drinking coffee made by Navy stewards, which put Red Bull to shame. As testimony to the Sec State’s determination to be better than Hillary, while his car was speeding towards the White House, he’d called the embassy in Pretoria and ordered the comms staff there to send copies of the surveillance video. The embassy had the best satellite link taxpayers’ money could buy, so it reached the State Department before the secretary even hit the White House front gate, and from there was e-mailed to his classified account- not the private server… By the time people sat in their usual seats, the video was uploaded to the TV system and ready to play. James Mattis had seen combat. He wasn’t shocked by the high-definition gore, instead focused on what happened before and after the woman got shot. Behind a poker face of note he thought “the South Africans are fucked”, and when the video had finished, he told his cabinet “it’s as clear as the balls on a tall dog that while it happened by mistake, the South Africans killed an American carrying a diplomatic passport and then invaded the grounds of our embassy. It wouldn’t have happened if the ANC hadn’t started this genocide bullshit, but now we’ve got staff at two embassies nearly a thousand miles from each other and other consulates too. Unlike others, I am not willing to abandon them. I want options, people!”

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About Billy:

An author of both fiction and nonfiction books, Billy Roper is a former high school and junior high History, Civics, Economics, and Geography teacher. He has been a candidate for public office, a lifelong political activist, leader, and spokesman. Mr. Roper has a Bachelor's degree in History and Political Science and a Master of Liberal Arts degree in History with a specialty in Anthropology. He currently resides with his wife, stepson, and other animals in what will become New America. Mr. Roper may be reached through e-mail at roper_billy@yahoo.com.